Cwtch
by ArgentSleeper
Summary: Merlin feels alone. Arthur shows him he's not.


**A/N: Written partly because of a prompt and a lot because I've been having a bad time lately.**

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The good thing about living with the court physician was there were plenty of blankets on hand at all times. The good thing about being servant to the prince of Camelot was he had access to a very large table. Together these two good things added up to the best thing Merlin could ask for right now: a blanket fort.

He needed the blanket fort right now. Under its shadowy confines Merlin could pretend the rest of the world didn't exist, that nothing was happening in his life except that he was wrapped up in Arthur's thick bedding, dragged unceremoniously from his bed and heated with just a touch of magic. Everything was perfect.

But everything was not perfect. Merlin had been kicked by a horse that morning and his leg was throbbing and swollen. It didn't help that Uther, still in a foul temper since Morgana went missing, had ordered him to the stocks as punishment for the horse running away. It wasn't Merlin's fault he was distracted with thoughts of Morgana himself. Morgana and Freya and his father, three gutting losses in hardly two months, all of which he had had to be present for.

Morgana was at the centre of even more pain as Merlin couldn't even go to Gwen for comfort at the moment. The former handmaid wasn't speaking to him anymore, not since she'd slapped him harshly in the face for suggesting that there was little chance her mistress would be found.

He could hardly take it back and say that he'd actually meant it might not be a good thing if she _was _found.

He couldn't talk to anyone, really, because Gaius was off caring for sweating sickness victims halfway across the kingdom, and Arthur was on yet another mission to look for Morgana, and so none of them knew that he really needed one of them, any of them, here with him right now so he didn't have to do this by himself.

The letter was still back in his chambers, abandoned where he'd read it hours ago, after retreating to his room for a poultice and a potion for the pain. A letter, that was all he had now, all the gods had deemed him worthy to receive. _Dear Merlin… We're sorry to have to tell you… It was a peaceful passing… Would have come but the planting…_ It didn't really matter if someone had told him in person. They were nothing but words. Words on a piece of paper or words from a mouth, both were just as cruel and cutting and meant the same thing: his mother was dead, too.

He was an orphan. He'd lost his father and his mother and now he had no one. So often he had felt alone, having no one he could really talk to about his magic, his destiny, everything that set him apart, but now, now he truly was. It just wasn't fair.

Merlin fell asleep like that, curled up in Arthur's bedding, safe in his blanket fort. If another servant or one of the knights came in he would get into even deeper trouble with Uther, but he was too physically and emotionally exhausted to care.

Night had fallen by the time he woke up again. Someone was moving around the room, their movements deliberately quiet. Still on the cusp of sleep, Merlin kept his eyes closed, hoping they would just go away and leave him alone.

No such luck, though. A shaft of light filtered in as one of the blanket walls was lifted, and the gentle scrap of a chair being moved told him he was about to be ousted, probably sent to the cells this time for his presumption. Merlin just curled tighter into his ball. With rest his tear supply had had time to build back up again, and they were taking great pleasure in spilling down his cheeks once more.

A warmth that wasn't magically generated blossomed along his back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

His heart twisted in pained joy, but Merlin shook his head jerkily, refusing to roll over and look at him. For some reason the idea of Arthur being nice to him just made everything feel so much worse.

"Okay. You don't have to." Arthur lay silently next to him for a few minutes. "I'm sorry, Merlin. I truly am."

"About what?" Merlin's voice was cracked from distress, but he ignored it.

"Your mother… I read the letter in your room. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy; I was just coming to look for you–"

"It's fine."

"You can have some time off if you want. Go home for a while. Or if you want to keep busy, I can–"

"Arthur."

"What?"

"Just… please." Merlin didn't expect Arthur to know what he meant. Merlin didn't know what he meant. Please stop talking. Please go away. Please don't leave me alone.

"Okay." Arthur shifted, the increased heat indicating he had moved from lying on his back to pressing himself against Merlin's. An arm snaked around Merlin's waist and squeezed tight. "Okay."

And Merlin broke, his silent tears transforming into guttural sobs. Arthur didn't move from behind him, his free hand softly stroking Merlin's hair. After what felt like years and years Merlin allowed himself to be lifted into a sitting position, snuggled against Arthur's chest, still wrapping in his bedding, although it had found its way to wrap around Arthur as well (later, much later, Merlin would suspect his magic of being the culprit).

Gradually Merlin relaxed. He might have even fallen asleep like that for a while, lulled by the feel of Arthur's fingers in his hair and soft mumbling of nonsense, but he couldn't be sure.

When the pain of his injured leg became too much to bear, Merlin squirmed slightly to readjust himself. Arthur immediately stiffened and pulled back.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm not any good at this. This… _comfort_ thing. Do you want Guinevere? I can go get her."

Gwen, who would just feel guilty for yelling at him and then smother him in her regrets. He would have to suffer through it eventually, with a smile and an "I'm fine," and "I forgive you," but right now, he couldn't even deal with the thought. Merlin shook his head.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Merlin paused for a moment. Part of him did, but it was a very tiny part. He shook his head again.

Arthur's hand twitched at his side, but he made no move to wrap it around Merlin again, almost as if he were afraid of breaking him, or maybe that Merlin would push him away. But Merlin needed the closeness far more than he needed space to breathe. His own hand searched for Arthur's under the covers and drew it back around. Arthur took that as a sign and hugged him close, allowing Merlin to bury his head back into his chest, damp with snot and tears.

"You want to hear a secret?" Arthur murmured into his hair. "When we were younger, Morgana and I used to have competitions to see who could build the biggest pillow fort. Then we would play knights and plan assaults on each other's forts. I tried to convince her to be the damsel in distress, but you can guess how that went."

In spite of himself, Merlin gave a tiny giggle. "Is that why you have such a complex now? You never got to play the hero?"

Arthur jostled him. "Oi, you. I've always been a hero. Who do you think saved Morgana's dolls from the evil sorcerers?"

Merlin's smile faded a bit, but he forced himself to answer anyway. "Morgana?"

"Well, technically, yes… But only because I wasn't allowed to touch them on pain of death!"

"Scared of her even then, were you?"

"You would be too if you'd seen the things she did to me! I refused to go in my chambers for a month after she emptied an entire box of spiders in my bed."

"One time…" Merlin trailed off as the reminder hit him. Arthur just squeezed him tighter and waited until he could go on. "One time there was a squirrel that found its way into the house, and it was sitting on my mother when she woke up. She screamed and threw it across the room bundled up in her blanket. The poor thing broke its leg, and she felt so bad I…" _I healed it with magic. _"I patched it up and she let me keep it as a pet until it died from, well, whatever squirrels die from."

"She sounds like she was a good mum."

Merlin sighed, relishing the memory. "She _was_ a good mum." A pause. Then, "I miss her."

"I know."

"I'm alone now."

Arthur's hand left his side and gripped his chin, lifting Merlin's head up to meet his eyes. "Merlin, I don't know where you are getting your definitions from, but I fail to see how in this moment you in any way qualify as being _alone_." He actually looked mildly offended at the implication. "And any isolation you may feel now or in the future I assure you can be easily remedied. All you have to do is ask."

_I have magic_. He couldn't. It wasn't time. He couldn't lose this.

At Merlin's silence, Arthur released his head with a sigh. "It's late. You feeling up to going back to your room or do you want to stay here?"

With Gaius gone there was no one in his chambers. "Can I… can I stay here?"

"I gave that as an option, didn't I? Come on, lay down, then." He lowered Merlin back down onto one of the pillows, then took up his position behind him again, tucking the covers around them.

"You-You're staying here, too?" Merlin stammered. _Please say yes._

"You have all my bedding, idiot. What do you expect me to do, shiver all night long on my empty mattress?"

"You could take them back. You _are_ the prince, as you're so often reminding me."

Arthur scoffed, but Merlin could hear his smile in his voice. "And what kind of prince would I be if I left _you_ to shiver all night long? I'm the hero, remember? Now shut up and go to sleep."

Merlin found it oddly easy to do just that, utterly exhausted despite his earlier nap. Arthur didn't seem to mind as Merlin's body relaxed into his as waves of sleep overtook him. His arm around Merlin's waist felt warmer and more comforting than any blanket fort or heated bedding ever could. It felt like home.

The last thing he heard as he slipped away was a near silent plea breathed against his neck, "You don't have to be alone, Merlin. I wish you would trust me to stay."


End file.
